


Sherlock Spouts

by HumsHappily



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Nothing explicit, Relationship Fluff, Sherlock talks, Slight frottage implied, These two are adorable and John is wonderful., Wedding Fluff, weddinglock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:09:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3092654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumsHappily/pseuds/HumsHappily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Eventually, John came to the conclusion that Sherlock would spout off facts when distracted or rummaging through his mind palace. It also happened if the tall man was nervous or otherwise emotionally charged. While it was odd to have the man start speaking at irregular intervals, saying things like</i>
  <br/>
  <i>‘Isaac Asimov is the only author to have a book in every Dewey-decimal category’<i></i></i>
  <br/>
  <i>with no context, there were far worse things about living with Sherlock, toes in the tea kettle being high on the list. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Spouts

The first time John heard it, just days after he had moved in, he thought Sherlock was talking to him. It wasn’t as if that was unusual, Sherlock spoke to him constantly, often when he wasn’t there. But this was different. Sherlock didn’t even seem aware that he was speaking as he lay on the couch.  
He was rambling off disjointed and seemingly unrelated facts, hands waving about in the air in front of him as John watched from the kitchen doorway. 

“Although the period known as the Black Death ended in 1351, the plague continued to return to Europe, with epidemics every few years through the end of the fifteenth century.”

“All 17 species of penguins are naturally found exclusively in the Southern Hemisphere.” 

“A November 2000 study of tooth pulp in a French plague grave showed the presence of Y. pestis in all of 20 samples from three victims.”

“The surface area of an average-sized brick is 79 cm squared.”

“As the light from a star passes through the atmosphere, especially when the star appears near the horizon, it must pass through many layers of often rapidly differing density. This has the effect of deflecting the light slightly.” 

“Odontophobia is the fear of teeth.” 

Suddenly, Sherlock fell silent.  
“Sherlock?” John walked around the couch to check on the other man. “You alright?”  
“Of course, I’m alright.” Sherlock said, blinking up at him. “Weren’t you planning on making dinner?”  
John scowled, returning to the kitchen. The stream of chatter started up again as he left. 

——  
Eventually, John came to the conclusion that Sherlock would spout off facts when distracted or rummaging through his mind palace. It also happened if the tall man was nervous or otherwise emotionally charged. While it was odd to have the man start speaking at irregular intervals, saying things like  
‘Isaac Asimov is the only author to have a book in every Dewey-decimal category’  
with no context, there were far worse things about living with Sherlock, toes in the tea kettle being high on the list.  
As always John adapted quickly, accepting this new quirk in his stride. The facts became just another part of living with Sherlock.  
——  
Sometimes they were harmless, though very ‘Sherlockian’.  
“Butterflies, monarchs especially, will feed on a dead body.”  
“That’s nice Sherlock, I’m off to the shops now.” John said absentmindedly, having given up ignoring the man. “Now, where have I put my wallet.” Patting his pockets, John walked into the kitchen as Sherlock stood on the coffee table examining the bullet holes in the ceiling.  
——  
Sometimes they were irritating.  
“Sherlock Holmes, you need to eat something.” John said as he placed a plate of food on the coffee table.  
“The average person eats almost 1500 pounds of food a year.” came the reply from the window.  
“Put down your violin and come eat!” 

——  
Often, they would be used to chase away the females John dared to bring home.  
“Summer on Uranus lasts 21 years.” Sherlock said from his perch at the microscope.  
A slap to the face, a slam of the flat door, and a angry bachelor's meal of takeaway and beer later, John couldn’t help but laugh at how Sherlock dispatched any woman he brought home, at the accidental immaturity of his flat mate.  
(Years later, Sherlock would admit that he had intentionally “spouted” that fact in order to get rid of Joanna. )  
——  
Sometimes, the facts would be quite strange, but actually helpful.  
“An average of ten people per year die when improperly anchored vending machines fall on them as a result of vigorous shaking.”  
“And this is related to the case?” Greg asked, as he and John stood above an oddly positioned body. Sherlock snapped his head up.  
“Case?”  
“You just were talking about vending machines crushing people.” Greg said in an exasperated tone.  
“No, I wasn’t.” Sherlock replied staring at Greg with an air of disdain. John sighed, turning to Greg to explain Sherlock’s habit.  
In the end they did capture the person responsible for the death of the vending machine installer. Turned out the culprits brother had been one of the ten people each year to shake a machine too hard and meet a rather unusual death.

Greg was not impressed with the turn of events. John was rather impressed, if only because it seemed that even Sherlock’s subconscious was able to deduce humanity’s follies and secrets. 

——

And honestly, it wasn’t much of a surprise that when they finally started stopped dancing around each other, that the facts continued, following them into the bedroom. 

“Each day, there are over 120 million incidents of sexual intercourse taking place around the world.” Sherlock said nervously, as John began to unbutton his shirt, kissing down the man’s chest as it was revealed.  
“Really? You’d think it would be more.” John said, pushing the shirt from the tall man’s shoulders.  
“A functioning brain is unnecessary for ejaculation.” Sherlock blurted out as John unbuttoned his trousers.  
“Are you trying to tell me something?” John asked, sliding Sherlocks coverings down his hips and pushing the man backwards to the bed. Sherlock made to respond, but stopped as John stood, pulling his jumper off over his head. Toeing off his shoes, John unbuttoned his bottoms, slipping them and his pants off. Sherlock’s eyes darted directly to his crotch as it was uncovered.  
“The blue whale has the largest penis in the world.” Sherlock said, licking his lips and leaning back against the pillows. John grinned at the man, climbing onto the bed to kneel above him.  
“Thank you.” He smirked, leaning down to capture the other man’s mouth, thrusting their tongues together. Sherlock moaned, raising his hands to tug at John’s hair.  
Heavy breathing as John licked him open was broken only by “Over 700 different strains of bacteria have been detected in the human mouth”  
“Is that all?” John asked, grinning at the sweaty, panting man above him, before swallowing him down.  
“Human sperm can live for up to five day-unffff“ That fact was cut off Sherlock groaning as John slipped a single lubricated finger into him.  
There were no more facts for some time after that, Sherlock being far better occupied.  
——  
Afterwards, they lay in bed, panting. The room was quiet except for their breathing until suddenly; “More than 6,000 people with pillow-related injuries check into U.S. emergency rooms every year.” Sherlock mumbled.  
“How do you even know that Sherlock? We’re British!”  
A snore was the only response John got from the other side of the bed. John rolled his eyes, and curled into his lover, pulling the blankets over them both.  
——  
Four months into their relationship, John was woken around 4 am as Sherlock shook him by the shoulders.  
“John. John. Two-fifths of relationships have the involved parties admitting love before the end of the first month.”  
“Really?” John groaned, turning to face his partner.  
“Yes. We’ve been dating for exactly four months now.”  
“Honestly Sherlock, we’ve been dating for more like three years. What do you want?”  
Sherlock drew back, eyes darting around in the dark room. “I um. Just wanted you to know…..” He trailed off as John sat up and reached for him. “Sherlock?”  
“John?”  
“I love you too. May I go back to sleep now?” John lay down, gathering Sherlock to his chest.  
A few minutes later, Sherlock opened his mouth once more.  
“John?”  
“Yes, Sherlock?  
“I love you.”  
“I know. Sleep now please.”  
——

And eventually when John had had enough and decided to bite the figurative bullet, kneeling down in front of Sherlock directly outside a blood spattered crime scene, it wasn’t a surprise that Sherlock froze and spouted off the first fact he could think of.  
“The largest diamond ever found was 3,106 carats.” The consulting detective sputtered.

“Well, this one is only a small one, 2 carats, but is that a yes?” John smiled up at him.

The tall man could only nod, speechless. At Sherlock’s agreement, John stood and kissed him to the cheers of Sally and Greg, the groans of Anderson and a recently handcuffed criminal. 

——  
The facts didn’t stop during the period of wedding plans. 

“The tradition of a bride wearing "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue," comes from an Old English rhyme. Something old represents continuity; something new offers optimism for the future; something borrowed symbolizes borrowed happiness; something blue stands for purity, love, and fidelity. However, as neither of us are a bride, I am unsure of how appropriate the tradition is to uphold.”  
“It’s fine Sherlock, we don’t have to do any of the traditional stuff. Now, hold still so I can finish stitching this cut.” John responded, pulling the needle and thread through Sherlock’s split eyebrow.  
“But we could….”  
“Hold still, William Scott Sherlock Holmes or this will scar. I mean it.” 

——  
“In many cultures around the world — including Celtic, Hindu and Egyptian weddings — the hands of the bride and groom are literally tied together to demonstrate the couple's commitment to each other.” Sherlock said one day, swooping into the kitchen. John jumped, swearing as he spilled tea down his front.  
“Shite, Sherlock. Warn a person.” John drying himself off with a towel.  
“Thus the phrase ‘tying the knot’.” Sherlock continued, perching on the counter.  
“Would you like to? I remember hearing about my great grandmother doing something like that. ” John asked, turning back to the sink.  
“Yes please.” Sherlock murmured, before making his escape to the living room. 

——  
“Early Roman brides carried a bunch of herbs, such as garlic and rosemary, under their veils to ward off evil.” Sherlock announced one day when he met John at the clinic.  
“Oh?” John said around a bite of egg sandwich.  
“Yes,” was the response as Sherlock dumped a bundle of the herbs onto the table.  
John just sighed, and smiled at his fiance.  
“Rosemary fine, but any garlic stays in the kitchen.”  
——  
On the wedding day, Sherlock shared facts on the cab ride over to the courthouse, where yes, they did tie a knot of red string around their joined wrists. Mrs. Hudson had a fresh sprig of rosemary on her hat, mixed in among the other flowers. He continued in the cab ride to the park, where their reception was being held, continued for the duration of the reception, collaring anyone he could. 

“Civil ceremonies accounted for 70% of all marriages in 2012. The proportion of marriages that were civil ceremonies first exceeded religious ceremonies in 1976.”

Lestrade nodded tiredly into his champagne before Mycroft could save him. 

“15% of all marriages in 2012 in the UK and Wales were remarriages for both partners” Molly popped a cracker into Sherlock’s open mouth and walked away. 

“No sex in a marriage has a much more powerful negative impact on a marriage than good sex has a positive impact.” Sherlock whispered in John’s ear when he finally caught up with his husband. 

“We’ve been married for four hours.” John said, “I hardly think that--oh.” John blushed as Sherlock brushed against him. “Right then.” 

 

——  
After the reception, the boys arrived back at 221. Sherlock stopping John at the door.  
“The bride was traditionally carried over the threshold because evil spirits hovered at the entrance of the house.”  
“No way. Sherlock you are not—“ John’s protest was cut off as Sherlock swooped down and picked him up. Two steps across and he set the fuming man down.  
“People are definitely going to talk now.” John scowled.  
“Why does it matter John? We’re married.” Sherlock responded, as he set off up the stairs at a gallop.  
——  
By the time John caught up, Sherlock had shed all his clothes but a pair of very small, very blue briefs and was waiting on their bed.  
“Something blue, remember?” the detective smirked, lying back into the pillows.  
“Sherlock, I might not be a genius, but nothing could ever make me forget the way you look right now.” John responded, gazing hungrily at his husband.  
“And that, that is a fact.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the themadkatter13 for making me dig this out and finish it!
> 
> And as always, find me [here](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.  
> Any notification of errors are accepted with gratefulness that knows no bounds.  
> Kudos, comments, and your happy (pained) flailing are accepted with glee. I hope you enjoyed!  
> 


End file.
